


Bedroom Wrestling Ring

by JasnNCarly



Series: Jon Moxley (Dean Ambrose) & You [13]
Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Tumblr, greygirlmoxley, jon moxley series, wwe imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2020-05-16 20:45:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19325767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JasnNCarly/pseuds/JasnNCarly
Summary: Fourth (Final) part of Moxley series, takes place after "Times Like These"





	1. Chapter 1

Crawling onto the bed, slow in your approach of him, you throw your leg over his lap and hide a playful smile, “So do you want anything while I’m gone?”

“Well, keeping you here isn’t an option so…” Jon’s hands slide onto the curve of your hips, his back propped against the headboard, “Just come back to me. Quick.”

You shake your head, bringing it to a bow as your hands begin to creep along his torso, “You’re not sick of us yet? Dying for a break?”

It had been nearly a year since the two of you had gotten back together, sped towards an aisle, and began to settle on the main roster at the WWE. You two traveled, lived, and conducted your lives in almost perfect sync – aside from the occasional argument about who was paying either one of you too much attention. It was better than you could ever anticipate it being, but you (as well as Jon) had the terrible habit of expecting the worse; so that’s why you dropped the horrible comments that pissed him off.

“I don’t get sick of you.” His arms, thicker and solid every time they gather you within them, pull you inward until you are mere inches from his face, “Just want more.”

“Mmm…that’s a damn near perfect response, hubby.” You give him a kiss which lingers, playing with the length of his fluffy curls, then ease yourself back, tilting your head with the small smack of your lips, “I don’t leave until early morning though so…”

“That’s very true.” Jon gives no warning before tossing you onto your side of the bed; it’s so careless you slightly bounce and erupt with laughter as he covers the length of your body with his, “Let’s get you all tired for that long plane ride tomorrow.”

“Yeah, plan on giving me a different ride?” Your pun does nothing to dial down the heat stirring in his flame lit gaze set upon you; however, your blaring ringtone had the horrid habit of killing your mood. Especially when you heard “My Main” by Mila J; it was Ivelisse.

You grab your phone, answering her mid-Mila note and sit up on your knees when he rolls onto his back in mild frustration, “Hey, babe.”

Ivelisse sounds slightly panicked, “Hey, did you double check your flight for tomorrow?”

“Yep, flights and hotel secured in Puerto Rico as of two p.m. tomorrow.” Your repetition of the itinerary for Ivelisse’s all girl, birthday weekend causes Jon to roll his eyes; he curls his arms under his head and tries to be patient as you go on, “You all packed?”

“Been packed. It’s just a matter of keeping Angelico’s grabby hands out of my bag.” Her snappy tone alerts you that her man is nearby, “He’s not really feeling some of clothing choices.”

You can hear his thick accent in the background, “I can barely get you to wear this shit for me, but you want to go to the island and sit on the sand like this.”

While they engage in couple banter, you pin the phone between your shoulder and ear; Jon wrinkles his brow until you are undoing his jeans and easing them off his hips, mouthing to him, ‘Multi-tasking.’ He lets out a boyish grin, clearly impressed, and chuckles as you yank them down his thighs and toss them aside, leaving him in a relaxed pose.

“I’m going to be with a bunch of girls! Would you calm down?”

You hop off the bed, peeling yourself out of your clothes as you continue to listen to the two of them; the whole time Jon’s eyes drink you in. Once you slither back onto the bed, giving him a flirtatious grin, your fingers curl around his length and begin to caress him. His eyes shut as you conduct a warm and tight massage; the whole while you try to remind Ivelisse, “Angelico is not preventing this trip. Tell him to get over it.”

Jon groans, stiff to your touch, as you do your best to conclude to discussion and give your man something to remember you by for the next few days. Throwing your leg over his lap again, your hands never stopping their work, you become irritated as Ivelisse and Angelico carry on a separate conversation. Distracting yourself, you rub his tip against yourself and are instantly distracted. You would give just about anything to be done with this conversation, no matter how much you love Ivelisse and are determined to make this weekend all about her.

However, it impossible to ignore Jon as his hands curl around your waist and guide your movement – the two of you beginning to breath heavily in response to the friction. You focus is beginning to fail you; Jon picks up on this, sitting up and snatching the phone from you, “Ive, she’s got everything under control and needs to hang up now.”

Your jaw drops, eyes now wide, as he hangs up on her and tosses the phone to your nightstand; driving into you, he removes your surprise and all argument to regain your full attention.

————–

_I love you. Have fun and come back to me. Quick._

You smile at the message which pings your phone once you are in the air; truthfully, it’s been a while since you guys have spent a whole weekend apart so you’re a little nervous. When you had too much time to yourself, you tended to overthink and make stupid decisions.

But that cannot happen this weekend. You’ll be too focused on your best friend, birthday girl and the beautiful island to think about your husband. Just as you begin to type a message back to him, the plane begins to jerk with turbulence. It carries on for a few minutes as the pilot assures everyone it should resolve itself soon.

You have always hated flights, but you had grown use to them – except in moments like this. Moments like this had you staring at the seat belt sign, waiting for it to blink, before you could rush to the restroom.  By the time the plane has evened out, the damage has been done.

You swallowed hard, hand immediately at your stomach, as you pressed the call button. The second the stewardess came near, you found enough breath to request ginger ale. When she nodded, you tilted your head back and tried to focus on the steadiness of your breathing.

When you have calmed down enough, praying for the flight to go quick, you return to your phone and type an entirely new response.

_I can’t wait to be back in your arms. Safe and sound._


	2. Chapter 2

“You all right back there?”

Your eyes hop to Ivelisse’s in the rearview mirror, presenting a bright smile as you try to force back bile, “I’m just settling from the plane ride. We hit turbulence big time, and I think I left my stomach in the overhead compartment.”

“Sorry, babe, the weather is fickle coming to the island, to Puerto Rico,” Ivelisse’s smile became megawatt as the wind whipped through the open car windows, her voice now shouting out the window, “when coming HOME!!!”

Laughter emerged from you and Bayley as you watched the passing scenery, colors bright in everything from the sand to the sky. The heat is tolerable, especially since Jon had warned you about the weather being “ball dripping hot” most of the time, and you had dressed in shorts and a cut off t-shirt for the occasion. Digging into your purse, you find your phone and call.

Jon picks up upon the first ring, “You guys checked in already?”

“Seriously, don’t you have a show to prep for?”

“I’m at the arena. I just started stretching. Now—”

“Oooo, tell me more.” His low growl in response causes you to erupt in a flirty giggle, “All right, all right, we’re in the car. We made it with all of our luggage; and we’re on our way to the hotel now.”

“That’s right! Time to celebrate!” Ivelisse knows exactly what she’s doing as she encourages Bayley, who is in the passenger seat, to dance with her and turns up the music so it echoes around you, “Mi cumpleaños feliz!”

“Will you,” His tone changes with a sigh, from requesting to demanding, “ _call_ me when you get check into your room. Even if I don’t pick up, for whatever reason, leave a message.”

“Yes, daddy, I will do as told.” You tease receiving an eye roll from Ivelisse who is anxious to be rid of your husband for the weekend, “But then it’s all Ivelisse for the weekend.”

“Ivelisse.” Jon scoffs, clearly irritated anyone has taken his spot as number one and beside you – even if it’s just for a weekend, then makes sure to remind you yet again, “I love you, (Y/N).”

Your heart flutters in your chest at the proclamation, leaving you wondering if he will always have that effect on you, and your smile can be heard in your words, “I love you, too, Jon.” When you hang up the phone, sliding it back into your purse, you can’t help but try to chew your lip and conceal the smile.

“Shit…” Ivelisse rolls her eyes, stopping at a red light and turning the radio down abruptly, “If I ever get that cheesy over a man, please help me find my womanly cajones.”

You cross your arms over your chest, “Excuse me, bitch, but you are fucking Velveeta with Angelico.”

“Not that anyone could blame you.” You and Ivelisse whip your necks in Bayley’s direction as she smirks, “Look, I’m with Solomon-Sami-whatever  _you_ want to call him these days, but I’m not blind, all right?”

“Be careful, Ivelisse may whip her cajones out if you talk about the attractiveness of her man.”

Ivelisse narrows her eyes at you, spitting, “Tu madre!”

Flipping her off in the rear view mirror, you stick your tongue out, “Puta.”

————–

You call Jon the second you are in your room, “This is not as bad as either of us is making it. It’s one weekend.”

“Do you realize how long it’s been since we’ve been separated for more than a day?”

It was before the marriage. You weren’t about to admit this to him, especially seeing as how his life in Puerto Rico was an unpleasant experience. You don’t want to increase his worries; you are half tempted to catch a plane and find him in the arena. Hug him until there’s no tomorrow and promise you are just fine. This was not normal; you realize that. Plenty of couples lived separately after their marriage for weeks on end, but you and Jon had not tempted your bond with this practice yet.

“(Y/N)?”

“I’m here. Just…thinking.”

“Already? Should I be worried?” You know he can hear your eyes roll as he clears his throat, adding, “I meant—is it about us?”

“Nothing bad, babe. Just…you’re right. It’s been a while.” You shut your eyes, imagining him with his taped hand around the cell phone, pinning it to his ear, as his hand rubs against his collarbone, “I can’t wait to get home. We’ll drink some Puerto Rican Rum, and I’ll model something nice for you.”

“Well, goddamn, I like the sound of that.” You both hear the call, giving him ten minutes, and he exhales heavily into the phone, “Stay safe, (Y/N).”

“You too!” You wait for his end to hang up before falling onto your stomach, landing firmly on the fluffy bed top and staring at your phone background of you with your man. The anxiety sets in, and you just want to go out to forget you two are separate for now.

————–

“(Y/N)?” You wake up with a sudden start, eyes wide and filling your lungs with air; a gentle smile resides on Bayley’s lips as she strokes your hair, “You better get ready before Ivelisse kills us both.”

“What?” You roll onto your back and look to see nightfall has come; you didn’t even remember falling asleep, “…shit…”

Bayley retracts her hand, explaining, “She said she would give us a couple hours to get ready so we wouldn’t make her look back. I don’t think she meant for you to go to sleep.”

“I don’t even remember lying down.”

That was a lie; you vaguely remember when you flopped down on the bed. You were pleased with its bounce back and the cushy support of the lines. For some reason, you felt like you could sleep for days despite the adventures waiting for you this weekend. You had been run down the past week, but the plane ride had been what did you in.

Bayley’s messing around on her own phone, texting with a laugh, “Jon’s got my boyfriend wondering why he can’t just keep it together for a few days. It’s pretty obvious you won’t run again with that ring on your finger.”

“Jon and I get it. Suppose that’s all that matters.” You grab a black wrap around skirt, a matching top with its own wrap and begin to dress. You don’t need to hear Ivelisse’s mouth about you running them late, and you could care less if Bayley sees anything – though she won’t with her rapid texting. Moving to the mirror, you put your hair in a messy up do that is done just enough to look intentional; you highlight your eyes, cheek bones, and lips.

It doesn’t take long before you hear, “All right, ladies, line up!”

“Here we go!”

You feign excitement, less agitated after your unplanned nap, and lead Bayley out of your room and into the larger area of the massive suite. Ivelisse has a group of five other girls, who all get a quick introduction to you, waiting for you to join them. You and Bayley give an awkward wave, happy you can lean on each other, and stand beside them at the bar.

Meanwhile, Ivelisse stands behind it and lines up shots for everyone – tequila or rum, the only two options. When everyone has made a choice, well aware she will make drink both, Ivelisse holds up a bottle and announces, “To the baddest birthday bitch you ever did see!”

Everyone lets out a celebratory scream in unison before tossing back the first shot of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

“Are you okay?”

You were anything but okay as the music thumped throughout the bus; the women around you breaking off in sporadic laughter and shouts of Ivelisse’s name. But you were trying to play it off, before you had even made it onto the bus, you had rushed back to your bedroom in the suite – claiming you had to grab some cash. Instead, you had ended up in the bathroom – puking up what little substance was in your stomach. This was the wrong time to be so sick, to feel like you had the flu with your muscles aching, exhaustion, and stomach somersaults.

Still nursing the shot they had tried to tempt you with, you merely nod at Bayley, “I’m fine.”

Bayley obviously didn’t believe you, checking for Ivelisse’s attention elsewhere before exchanging your full shot glass with her empty one, shaking her head and tossing it back with a wince. She knew, whatever your problem was, you wouldn’t want Ivelisse to think you weren’t participating in her party. She tucks both of your glasses into the cushions then speaks into your ear, “You better act buzzed before she gets suspicious.”

So, you did. It was easy to act, casually tossing have the alcohol you were to consume on a cushion before handing it to Bayley. Then, finally getting to the club, your party enters a wave of heat and sound. This doesn’t help your illness, only threatens to expose it, until you make it to the V.I.P. section. You wait for everyone to pop their first bottle before pulling the waitress aside and requesting that she gets you club soda, “And keep them coming please.”

Once you consume a full glass, it is easier to join in the party. Luckily, Ivelisse is already riding a wave of blissful intoxication and dancing happily among the group. Everyone, including poor Bayley who has done more than her share, is winding with the beat. The drinks continue to encourage your dance for hours, and you are the only sober one among your group (though no one has a clue). That is until Ivelisse tries to stumble out of the area and to the bathroom; you promise everyone you have her and assist her.

Immediately after she’s somewhat stumbled out of stall to wash her hands, you take a cool and damp paper towel to place against the back of her neck; you hold hair up in a lose bun and watch as she runs some cool water over her waterproof make up. Once she stands a little straighter, you hand her a dry paper towel and assist her to the upstairs balcony for some fresh air. 

This may not have been the best idea as you are so busy trying to get air yourself that you didn’t catch her pulling out her cell phone. You don’t recognize a thing until you hear her somewhat whine, “Angelico?”

“Shit!” You try to yank the phone from her hand, but she holds her hand out steps back, “Don’t listen to anything she says, Angelico! She’s drunk off her fucking ass!”

“I love you, papi.” Her confession causes you to stand absolutely dumbfounded; God, you hope this isn’t the first time she’s said this to him. You become statue still as she shuts her eyes and holds her free hand to her forehead, “I don’t—I know I give you shit. All the time, and…it’s because I get so scared. Of—everything, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But—no, shut up! I’m trying to tell you something! I love you, stupid ass! I miss you, and I hate it. I hate that you’re not always around, and I swear if you hurt me I’m gonna kick your ass…okay?”

Shit, shit, shit. You can only imagine what’s going on with Angelico on the other end of the line.

“I love you, too. I do.”

“All right, all right,” You manage to pry the phone out of her drunk clutch and shut your eyes, preparing for the backlash as you greet, “…Angelico?”

“What the fuck, (Y/N)? How much has she had?”

“A—bottle or two.”

“Of what?”

“She’s gonna be fine. I promise. I’m watching her, okay?”

His accent becomes so thickened with anger that you barely understand him, but his intentions are clear, “Bullshit, I’m flying out there tomorrow. I’d be there tonight if it wasn’t for this match. Don’t let shit happen to my girl, all right?”

“Sure thing.” You shut the phone off, knowing there was no stopping him, and tuck the cell phone back into her bra, sighing, “You’re gonna be pissed tomorrow, birthday girl.”

————–

You enjoy the warm morning air, sitting on the terrace and staring out at the island beginning to stir again, “I’m fine, Mox. I’m eating breakfast now, and they’re all asleep upstairs with a trash can nearby.”

“And you were what? DD last night?”

“I guess. Kind of. Someone had to look out for a group of beautiful girls in Puerto Rico.”

“I’m just glad Ivelisse had a good time, and I don’t have to get arrested.”

He lets out a groan so familiar that you close your eyes and see him stretching his limbs; you wanted to be there, wanted to be with him. You ignore the urge to whine or give him ideas, “Interviews today?”

“A couple. Figured I’d keep myself busy until you get back home, island fresh.”

You roll your eyes, popping a piece of fruit into your mouth, “After watching Ivelisse’s craziness last night, I have a feeling the island fun is gonna stop the second Angelico gets here.”

“Yeah, and the reason I couldn’t go was….?”

“I thought it was an all girl’s weekend, babe. I didn’t know she was gonna go crazy and get him pissed enough to fly here like Superman.”

“Well, at least with him there, I don’t have to worry about the second night of Ivelisse’s party bus.” Jon laughs at your restrained growl, “Look,  _wife_ , I can be a little protective.”

“Wait, are you pulling rank,  _husband_? Like this ring entitles you to some kind of say?”

“We’re going to have a long talk when you get back, might involve a spanking if you keep back talking me.”

“Is this before or after we break a headboard?”

“Shit, you two are already at it and in public nonetheless?” Ivelisse’s disapproval immediately quiets the confident conversation between you and Jon; she falls into the seat across from you with dark Locs and an unnecessary hoodie shielding her just slightly from the world.

“Babe, we gotta continue this later. The bitchy beast has emerged.” He mumbles something you can’t quite make out before hanging up the phone; you put your phone down, pushing your plate to her side of the table, “Want me to get you a bagel or something?”

“This is fine.” She starts to pick at the muffin on your plate, “So, did you tell your man what’s wrong with you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you were the only one who woke up this morning without a hangover.” She lowers her shades as you frown at her, somewhat irritated you were not as undercover as you thought last night, “You take a test?”

You bite into another piece of fresh fruit, “A test for what?”

Ivelisse glares at you, somewhat tilting her head, “A pregnancy test, cabrona.”


	4. Chapter 4

You don’t look up from the timer on your phone, even when you hear your bedroom door open and close.

“Everyone’s still out, believe or not.” Ivelisse takes a nervous seat beside you, “Guess you already got the hard part out of the way?”

“I still can’t believe there were so many.”

The aisle at the small corner market threatened you with judgement, the tests conveniently arranged beside smiling babies on formula canisters and pamper boxes; you had a feel the cashier would’ve judged you had it not been for the large ring on your finger. Ever since Ivelisse had announced the possibility, you had tunnel vision and just had to know; at this point, you were unsure of what thoughts were remaining in your head and which were finding their voices aloud.

“(Y/N)…” She says you name gently, yet it has that tone which urges you to look at her; Ivelisse knows you won’t do it on your own, so she carefully removes the phone from you hand and tosses it over her shoulder to the mattress behind you.  Taking one of your hands in hers, she offers small smile, “I’m sorry that I brought it up…and if I ruined this whole weekend for you.”

“I can’t believe you’re apologizing when this whole weekend was supposed to be about you, and I’m—selfishly turning it into something about me…unintentional or not. I get to wear the badge of disgrace this weekend, shittiest fucking friend alive.”

“I had a great time last night, aside from my embarrassing phone call, and my girls got no complaints.” She slightly nudges your arm with her elbow, “We’re good. I promise.”

“I don’t know how to do this, Ive. If that test is positive—” You shake your head, trying to review a mental calendar, “I’ve been on the pill. We even use protection… _sometimes_. I—I shouldn’t be pregnant. I’m on the verge of a title run, and Jon’s even closer than I am.”

“You’ll figure it out, mami.” Her voice is the most comforting thing you have to hold onto as she strokes your hair behind your shoulder, “And if he doesn’t do right by you, I know some people who can help us make sure he disappears.”

You let out a sharp laugh, forcing tears back, and shake your head, “This can’t be happening. I can’t even—wrap my mind around it. I need…a distraction…something else to think about. Please,” You pause, swallowing hard and begging her, “tell me something…anything.”

She bows her head a little, taking a second before announcing, “…Angelico asked me to marry him.”

Your wide eyes find her uncertain frown, jaw dropped you manage to ask, “You said?”

Ivelisse shrugs her shoulders, sensing your reprimand before it appears, “I know, okay? I could lose him if I act scared, but—I suggested we live together.”

“As what? A consolation prize?”

“As a—give me time so I don’t think I’m going to fuck things up with you the way I did with Matt.” Ivelisse still blames herself for the fiasco end with Son of Havoc, and everyone’s reassurances have done little to change her mind. You see tears mist her ebony eyes as she laughs at herself, “I told him I’d give him an answer when I got back home…then I gave him that fucking phone call last night.”

“Yeah…about that…” You are afraid to announce he’s coming, but it’s time to drop the bomb.

“I know.” She stops you, holding up a hand, “I got more than a few text messages warning me about it this morning.”

“But he’s gonna expect…”

“And…” Rubbing her hands anxiously against her thighs, she finishes your mutual thought, “I’ll have to give him an answer.”

“Which is…?”

Before she could answer, the obnoxious alarm sounds and tells you that your own answer has come.

————–

Angelico had arrived at the suite about an hour ago and taken Ivelisse away from the group. You watch them carefully from the bay window, knees slightly drawn inward as you sit on the fluffy carpeted floor. They have been going back forth since reaching the sand; both clearly hoping to win the pointless argument between them. Ivelisse finds reasons to back off yet Angelico maneuvers his hands back to her hips or to her shoulders every time it looks like she’s gonna run away completely.

“They still going at it?” Bayley parks beside you on the floor, wearing glasses inside - wrapped in a blanket from her bed; you nod, and she sighs, “I wonder what they’re talking about.”

A number of things you’re sure. You just want to watch to make sure she’s okay; all your shit can take a backburner if this goes to hell. Bayley’s gasp signals that is exactly what might happen as Angelico takes a knee in front of Ivelisse, her hands within his tight grasp.

_Come on, Ive. Don’t run. Don’t be scared. He loves you. You love him._

An unspeakable relief washes over you as Bayley squeals, slightly bouncing in her seat, while Ivelisse nods yes, staring down at him. After retrieving the ring from his pocket and slipping it on her finger, Angelico’s arms around her as his lips dip down to catch hers. You and Bayley only stop staring when Ivelisse jumps up and wraps her legs around him; their moment was no longer something you could intrude on.

Bayley pouts back to her room as you chuckle, promising her something easy for dinner, as you make your way back to your room; falling onto the bed, you slide your hand under the hem of your shirt and swallow hard as you feel your wedding ring come across your flat stomach…tears flood your eyes as you realize it is Jon’s first kiss to your child.

————–

Angelico’s appearance in Puerto Rico had made the rest of Ivelisse’s birthday weekend about their engagement, and you were thankful for that. Ivelisse is latched onto him so much that the questions about your situation got brushed aside; you were fine with that because you needed the distraction. 

However, as the plane touched down, you could no longer ignore the situation.

You wait until everyone else gets off, needing a few extra seconds to contemplate how you are going to roll out the news to Jon. How did you reveal  _this_  news to Jon Moxley? You two had a weird version of normal, and this was going to change all of that.

Emerging into the waiting area, you see him staring at the ceiling windows and dancing to some tune in his head; he’s beautiful. His fluffy curls seep out of his slate colored beanie, while his jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie do little to conceal his muscular form; you are so thankful that his wedding band is obvious on his finger as you see a couple of admirers pass him.

Jon must feel you staring at him as his eyes find yours and that killer smile immediately decorates his lips; you melt into a puddle of pure love for him, shy and uncertain in your stand.

That’s okay. He rushes up to you, gathering you into his arms and somewhat lifting you off the ground as he captures lip for a deep kiss that hints exactly how much he’s missed you. 

You are desperate to hold onto only that moment, kissing him back with so passion that someone grumbles, “get a room,” as Jon’s arms secure you in a protective hold. He had not the slightest clue that this was exactly what you needed right now.


	5. Chapter 5

“We can take about an hour and a half if you still want to be early to the arena.” Jon groans as he falls into the bed space beside you; curving his body to the back of yours, securing you in a solid spooned position, he buries his faces against your hair and deeply inhales the scent, “Sound good to you?”

“Sounds perfect.” You hold his arm tight around you, certain that you have not yet begun to show – especially since you can’t really keep food down, “Thanks for giving me some rest.”

“It’s definitely hard to do.” His fist grips your shirt as he releases a huff against your hair, happy to hear you share his laugh, “But I plan to take full advantage of you when we get home tonight.”

“Then, let me sleep and stop,” Pinching at the back of his hand, you chuckle at his hiss, “giving me ideas.”

With a growl, he settles against you; it feels like seconds before his breath evens out and signals his rest. Meanwhile, you find yourself mindless stroking his arm, up and down. You’re happy to be home; you’re happy to be in his arms; that’s all you need right now. You can’t bring yourself to close your eyes right away; you can only listen to and feel his breath.

Your mind is wild. Your body exhausted. Yet you can only imagine what is going to happen before tomorrow; part of you wishes you could just fast forward the next twenty-four hours so the news was out and every action that needed to be taken was done.

You had no clue how your work would change, if you would even have a job. You doubted wrestling would be good for the pregnancy; nevermind that, how would Jon react? You two had barely discussed the marriage before it happened, now this? It felt like you and Jon had gone from a snail’s pace (your friendship) to warp speed (your marriage)?

Unable to do anything this second, you turned around in his arms; you were on the verge of tears as you did so, snuggling the length of your body to his shutting your eyes tight. Your heart is slightly crushed when Jon instinctively holds you tight against him in his slumber. For the moment, he will keep you safe from the world.

————–

You insist Jon go explore the arena, talking his match with his opponent for the night, as you found Bayley. There is a promise you will join him after the show and reminder that you love him with a tender last kiss; you watch him walk away rather than take the first steps.

His walk is etched into your brain, and your heart still aches for his hold. Your courage returns when he’s turned a corner, and you seek out Stephanie’s office for this episode of RAW. Luckily, this happened to be a night that her door was open. You could talk to her directly rather than go through channels, and the opportunity was a Godsend.

After a solid knock, you hear, “Come in.”

Stephanie is alone. It’s now or never. Surprisingly, she offers you a gentle smile – before she says the words which feel like one of her slaps to the face, “There’s one of my future champs.”

You let out a weak laugh, taking a seat on the couch near her and feel the bile slowly rising in your throat. The company was counting on you, and – somehow with this action – you had let them down. You would not be running with the ball as they had expected you too.

Her blue eyes somewhat sparkle as she asks, “What can I do for you?”

That’s all it took. Your ball of emotions takes over, causing you to bow your head as the tears begin to stream down your cheeks.

Stephanie’s concern shows immediately, her hand on your shoulder, “What is it, (Y/N)?”

“I think…” You wipe at endless tears, looking her in the eyes as you say the words you never really thought you would, “I have to step away from the WWE.”

“What? Why?” Her hand retracts as she searches your eyes for an explanation, “Is it an injury?”

If only it were that simple. Your entire life, whole world, was about to change. You take a deep breath, holding it in, as you announce, “I’m pregnant.”

Stephanie looks uncertain of how to respond until her arms are around you, tight…supportive? You are confused until she whispers in excitement, “Congratulations!” In a split second, she pushes away with a hold on your shoulders, “Right?”

Releasing the same breath, a little dizzy, you speak, “I think so?”

“Is Jon excited?”

You open your mouth to speak, yet you have nothing.

She reads you clearly, “Oh…well…I get it. You want to straighten out things here first. Business, right?”

You chew your lip, avoiding her eyes in hopes of gaining some insight and clarity. Stephanie hadn’t approved of the way you and Jon got married, abrupt and secret. You had no discussion with the company before it ended on gossip blogs…and now you were pregnant. You anticipate the worst.

However, her motherly instincts kick in, and Stephanie rubs your biceps like she’s warming you up, “Listen, work out a temporary write off with Bayley. Put her in your position. You guys worked out a great idea to get up here…and I’ll trust you with this direction switch.”

Your wide eyes meet hers, “Are you sure?”

“You need to have control over something. You’re about to be a mom.”

“What about my job? My contract? Am I—is this—what am I gonna do?”

“Don’t worry about any of that right now. Worry about getting through tonight and…telling your husband he’s going to be a  ** _father_**.”

Great. Another reminder of the task you weren’t sure you were capable of doing.

————–

You and Bayley ignore everyone’s looks, especially as they drew their own conclusions about your all girls weekend, and hold hands to the gorilla position. 

Bayley had a feeling; she said she felt something change in the weekend, but she had no idea how to ask you. She was going to accept your position, but she wanted you to be champion even more. The friendship, the bond, you had with Bayley was so far beyond anything you had ever anticipated – you held her in your heart beside Ivelisse. This whole thing, what you were about to do, was gonna hurt like hell.

Your music hits, and you blink. Everything feels like an absolute blur as you wait for Bayley to join you, in a number one contender’s match for the Divas Championship. When her music hits, you maintain the onscreen tension that the two of you had been building for weeks – the uncertainty of whether your friendship was still real or not.

Bayley handled you so gently, not a single blow to your stomach, until the move came. One slam, the one you both handled with a deep breath, and you made it look like you had slipped into it; a slip you wouldn’t recover from…a slip that left the audience gasping, the doctors calling for a stretcher, and you could only imagine what Jon was going to do if he were watching the monitors backstage.


	6. Chapter 6

“Where the fuck is she!”

“Watch your mouth! There are cameras and mics everywhere!”

“My fucking wife is wheeled out of the ring, and you want me to FUCKING calm down!”

The arguing outside got nearer, many voices indistinguishable outside of Jon’s, until you hear Bayley assert, “I got him. I got him.”

You hear all of this outside of your locker room, knowing that your mutual friends were doing their best to reassure your husband that everything is okay; yet you heard him bulldozing your way from the second you were being wheeled backstage. Your heart had been pounding out of control ever since then, and you were in knots – unsure if you could face him.

You wondered if any of his craziness would be used for the show, if it would fuel his title run, but you pray it won’t. You pray this drama stays between you, but the gossip on the internet must have exploded. No one expected what happened between you and Bayley…and Jon had no way of reassuring himself other than seeing you.

When you hear the door slam open, you whip around to face him and your breathing stops as he stomps up to you; your face is in his hands, his blue eyes dark as he looks you over. You hear Bayley say something about giving you privacy, and Jon releases your face then steps back.

Here goes nothing.

“What the fuck happened out there? I thought they wanted the title on you next month!”

You swallow hard, looking him over and wonder if this will be the last time for a few days. He’s in jeans, a white tank top, and one of his logoed sweatshirts; his hands are taped up but his hair was still dry as he still had sometime before his match was supposed to start. This is the worst time to tell him. You should’ve told him at home, said the words to him before rehearsing on your boss and friend.

“Damn it, (Y/N), talk to me!”

“I have to take a break.” The words sound like they appear with your voice, but you can’t be sure, “I have to step back, and I—I talked with Stephanie.”

“Wait! The  _fuck_! Why didn’t you talk to me!” Jon steps close again, his anger heats his breath, “You’re doing it again! You’re shutting me out!”

“No, no, Jon, that’s not—”

“It’s exactly what’s happening!”

“No, I just had to find a way—”

“We’re married, (Y/N). You can’t keep pulling this shit on me!”

You need him to be settled; you need a pause or a breath to continue, “Please, calm down, Jon.”

Jon is furious in a way you haven’t seen since your beginning, any maturity was out the window as he lost it, “No! What else do I have to do to prove to you that you don’t have to run from me! I have your back!”

“I’m pregnant.” You choke it out, and the room goes silent. That was to be expected, but it makes the weight on your shoulders heavier. The dizziness gets worse until you take a seat on the bench, forcing it out for confirmation once more, “I’m pregnant, Jon.”

You have no idea how long you sit there, no idea how long you are seated as he stands so still. Fears are not dissipated but increased with every minute that passes. But you have no idea how to feel when a knock appears, and it’s announced, “Dean, we’re ready for your match.”

You want him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t – he just leaves.

It is his turn to run.

————–

“You sure you don’t need anything else?”

You shake your head no, unable to speak. Your chest is tight as she hugs you once more; Bayley had brought you home once Jon left. Once she steps back, you try to hide tears and request quietly, “I just wanna be alone.”

“I am a call or text message away.”

“I know.” You squeeze her arm before standing by the door, “I love you, too.”

Reluctantly, she leaves.

You lock up after her and release a shaky breath, turning to face your empty home. Pictures of you and Jon are scattered everywhere; everything screams a blend of your two personalities, and you ache at what you’ve done. Damn, it feels like something you’ve done. Like you alone got pregnant and decided to change everything.

“My fault.” You say the two words aloud, gripping the back of a chair at the kitchen table; staring down, you look at your wedding band and think about Jon’s non-response. Within a split second, you repeat the words against in a bitter breath, “My fault?”

You yank the chair from the table and stomp to your room; slamming the door shut, you lock it and position the door under the handle. You don’t want him in your orbit, not while your emotions are so indecipherable. Maybe he’ll head right out of town without even visiting home, maybe he’s smart and will ask you to meet on neutral territory, maybe…just maybe he was right.

You hid again, and you weren’t sure why. Why wasn’t he the first to know? You were too emotionally done to analyze right now. Instead, you strip down to your underwear and find one of his old t-shirts to wear. Somehow, you had to have him with you while you were so lost. He was one of the only people who got you, even when you were adversaries. You climb into bed, bury yourself in the covers, and snuggle up to his side of the bed.

Luckily, it isn’t long before sleep teases you with its depths. In your dreams, you swear you hear him. His hoarse voice accompanies a gentle knock, “(Y/N)…open the door. Please. Just—we need to talk. (Y/N)? Are you awake?”

The truth was you weren’t; whether he was a dream or reality, you were too drained to move a muscle – even for the conversation of a lifetime.


	7. Chapter 7

It’s afternoon when you wake up and climb out of bed the next day. Your bare feet hit the ice cold floor, and it stuns you into awareness mid-stretch. You smooth your hair back, hoping you will find Jon on the couch if you venture out of the room. If he’s not there? You don’t know that your heart can handle it, so your eyes gloss with tears as you remove the chair from its spot at the door. Filling you lungs with a breath, you unlock and open the door.

Immediately, your knees rattle at the sight of your husband uncomfortably propped up against the wall – facing your bedroom. His legs lie extended in front of him, his arms dead-weight at his sides, as his chin somewhat digs into an awkward position just beneath his shoulder. With a patience you’ve never demonstrated before, you take a slow seat by his knees and curl your legs beside you. You don’t know if you can wake him, especially as you spot a plastic bag at his hip; he’s probably going to wake to the hangover from hell.

Still confused about what to do, how to act, you instinctively reach out to touch his hair; a smile finds its way to your lips as you smooth his curls back only to have them bounce through your fingers to their rowdy positions – for the briefest of seconds, you find yourself wondering if the baby will have his hair.

His eyes pop open, still fogged with sleep as he blinks a few times, and he offers a crooked smile to you before it turns to a slight pout, your hand leaving his hair, “Hey…”

You tuck your hands in your lap, rolling the hem of his shirt (the same one you had slept in to be closer to him) over them, “…hey.”

Moving slug slow, he leans forward and props his elbows against his thighs, “I don’t know how to—what do I say?”

You hang your head, trying not to openly sob in front of him and guilt him out of his feelings. He’s entitled to them, and you owe the man you love. Jon deserves a chance to process…even if you had not. You chew your lip, looking for a different pain to focus on, “…say what you want.”

“I love you. If I know nothing else, I know that.” Jon’s words cause you to look up at him, nodding in agreement as your tears get the best of you and start to fall, “I—I thought you were running from me again. I flipped out, and—I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t though. I swear I—” You slap at your tears, frustrated by your emotions, and struggle to explain, “I’m happy, Mox. Happier than I have any right to be, and when I found out in Puerto Rico,” You see him tense up, further explaining, “I had less than a day to really think about any of this before I came back home. I was terrified, still am, about my job. About our marriage. We’ve—we’re not good with challenges, and our marriage is still new. We’ve never even talked about—” Pausing, you remind yourself to breathe and cross your arms across your chest, “I’ve been on the pill and, while I may miss a day sometimes, there is no way this should’ve—we use protection, sometimes, when we think about it…this shouldn’t have happened.”

Jon, finally, makes physical contact with you as his hand curves over your crossed arms, “It did.”

“Yeah, and do we have any clue what we’re gonna do? Do you even want—?” 

The look in his eyes, wounded by your doubt, and the retraction of his touch cause you to feel nothing but shame. Somehow, you are fucking up even worse than before.

After what feels like a year of silence, his blue gaze burns you with purity – nothing he says is a lie and you are certain of that when he looks at you this way, “I do want…” Your quivering lip still manages a smile as your arms fall, finally allowing him to take one of your hands within his, “I want  _this_. I want you, (Y/N).”

He brushes the hair out of face as you whisper the only thing you can think of, “I’m sorry about last night.”

A nod later and Jon’s voice is soft yet stern, a heavy sigh leaving him as he opens his arms and beckons you closer, “Come here.”

Quick, you readjust yourself and move to his side, so happy you could do cartwheels at the moment. This is the Jon you need. This is the husband you need. The slightest signal that he is there makes you want to collapse. Every muscle in your body is happy to fall against him, your back to the wall next to him as your head falls to his shoulder and his arms come around you.

As his fingers move up and down your arm, his lips kissing the top of your head, you can’t help but think aloud, “We have no examples, Jon. You and I both know our childhoods are—”

“Not the way to do things.” He rests his forehead against your hair, his voice now closer to your ear, “But…maybe we won’t be so bad.”

“Yeah? Who told you that?”

Jon reaches over, rustling the plastic bag at his hip to expose what’s inside to your curious eyes, “The same guy who told me that I needed to get you some ginger ale and saltines.”

“Roman had your back, huh?” You smile, leaning away from him just a little as you spot the abundant supply, “I appreciate the gesture, but I haven’t really eaten since Puerto Rico.”

“We have to fix that.” His tone drips with concern as his hand finds your flat tummy, his eyes somewhat fixated on his hand’s position, “For both of you.”

You release a tearful, toothy grin as you plant your hands firmly against your stomach, “You’re not scared?”

“Shitless, actually.” Jon admits, his eyes jumping up to yours, as a smile registers on his dry lips, “But…I’ve got you.”

“Somehow. Someway.” You remind him before falling into a clumsy kiss which he gladly accepts. His hands in your hair, your hands against his chest, and the world is set right again with a simple touch of your lips.

————–

You had told him you would kill for pizza; then, like magic, Jon made pizza appear. His eyes slightly glare at the delivery boy who peeked in to see you standing in the hallway, still dressed for bed. After paying him with a glare instead of a tip, Jon threw the door shut and brought the boxes into the kitchen. You follow like an anxious child as your stomach grumbles, making you wonder if the food will make you sick or if it is just what your tiny growing human needs.

Jon opens the box and watches as you salivate, chuckling as you began to pick at the pepperoni, “Is this what it’s going to be like for nine months? You puke up everything but pizza?”

You shrug, enjoying the sudden lightness of the conversation, “Maybe.”

Watching him move around the kitchen, you realize without asking you what you need…he’s taking care of you. Setting napkins down, grabbing paper plates, filling glasses with ice and asking what you want to drink (he reminds you about the ginger ale), Jon sets up your entire meal on the counter top.

It must be his actions that motivate you to be honest, to not hide from the one person you are so certain is on your side. Suddenly, you are picking at the pizza for entirely different reasons as you sigh, “Jon?”

He’s on alert at your call, knowing that softness and the use of his first name means you want his full attention and support, “Yeah?”

It pains you to say it, but you force yourself – even as you bite the corner of your mouth to prevent the words, “What if I’m—not a good mom? What if I screw up this whole thing?”

“(Y/N),” Jon returns the call of your name, causing you to look up and bravely into his eyes, “You’re gonna be good.”

“How can you be sure? Last night you were sure I was running for the hills. How you think I’m really gonna react to breastfeeding and all that shit?”

Jon cannot help but laugh, his smile so adorable you have to join him. When he collects himself, he gathers your face in his hands and forces you to hold your head high, “You took care of me when it would’ve been easy to walk away. And, as much as I hate to admit it, everything you have ever done was to support me. Even when you went away…”

He’s never said that. Never admitted that he understood. You never meant to hurt him; you just couldn’t take his dream away because you were so selfishly in love with him.

Jon’s arms are around you when you finally check back into reality, “You always come back. You are always going to do the right thing and…you got me. For life.” Kissing the tip of your nose, he buries his face against your neck and promises, “We’re gonna be fine.”


	8. Chapter 8

Your legs are stretched out over his lap as you watch him work your muscles in fascination; he uses his rough hands to massage you from your thighs to your calves to your feet. Resting your upper body against the cushy back of the couch, you hug your waist and smile towards your man. This is how real love felt, when you went from the entire world being over to open conversation that dripped the hardest truth. This was your life with him, a roller coaster you would not sacrifice for anything else in the world.

Jon’s hand continue to ease your tense muscles as he turns his head towards yours, grinning at your relaxed stare, “You feeling okay?”

“I’m feeling great.” You let out a sharp laugh, reaching out a hand to play with his hair, “You seem like you wanna ask me something else, though.”

“I do.” Jon lightly pats your legs, signaling you to curl them under yourself, and he scoots closer to you, his fingers now ghosting the skin of your arm, “I think we should get you to see a doctor tomorrow.”

“What? Why! We just found out.” You can’t take it when he slightly squints his blues eyes, signaling such an innocent confusion that you’re not sure he and the man you meet in the bedroom are indeed the same, “Jon, babe, I have to consider what doctor I want to deal with for the next nine months. We have to ask questions, do research, before I decide that – yes – that’s the doctor that gets to see me more intimately than you have.”

“We just need to take you to a doctor to get the initial how-to.”

“I’m not a car or recipe, Mox.”

“I’m serious, (Y/N).” Jon runs his hand up your body to your waist once more, smoothing the fabric against its flatness, “I just want to know that you’re both okay…please?”

Your defenses crumble, still you attempt to resist, “What about work? Shouldn’t you be hitting the road again?”

“No, I talked to Stephanie, too. I won’t go back until Saturday.”

You know he is not going to let it go, and you could use the reassurance too. You concede, following a quick kiss to his lips, “Okay.”

“Good, now give me your phone.” You frown handing it over as he moves to lie his head on your chest, making sure you can both see his screen, “Now, let’s Google if it’s okay for us to have sex right now or not.”

You may have been offended, if you weren’t so curious yourself.

————–

You had found an office willing to take you the same day, extra money and a ‘cancellation’ made all the difference in the world. When you and Jon find the small family practice, you fill out the paper work with as much information as you can because even your husband shrugs at some of the questions on the form.

Every time you glance over at Jon, he grows in his terrified state as women of varying months pass you two - some with an additional child on their arm or a child who tries to run around the room. You give his cheek a quick kiss, hoping to calm him just slightly, and take the paper work up to the front desk, giving them additional information about your insurance.

When you turn around, you see a little brunette boy make a bowlegged walk towards the Lego table next to Jon. You freeze as though you are catching animals in the wild and simply observe. The boy, with a golden tan and huge Bambi eyes, releases a proud gurgle and slams an open hand on the table. Jon is instantly in love, and the boy is reciprocal, handing him a large red Lego.

“Oh, you want my help? Yeah, little man.” Jon waits for the boy to point before pinning it down, wide eyes and big smile as the boy hands him another and points, “There?”

As the two proceed, you feel your eyes mist with unexpected tears. Glancing around the room, you see the boy’s mother who mouths to you, exhausted, ‘thank you,’ and rubs her belly – the one that looks like it is about to pop. You have no idea how to tell her thank you back, needing this moment to obliterate your fear all together.

You and Jon had spoken nothing of kids, yet there he was like he had been parenting for years.

————–

The doctor had told you little, gave you some printed paperwork and confirmed the pregnancy. Now, you were at the local pharmacy getting some things the doctors said would help with the initial months. Simple things, like cocoa butter for your changing body and prenatal vitamins as your regimen should start immediately. You were ready to keep it simple, but Jon was going slightly overboard. 

The tiny cart was being filled with ‘one more thing’ every time you went down another aisle. You highly doubted you needed a new ice pack and a foot massager. But you wanted Jon to feel like a part of this, especially after what you saw at the doctor’s office. The reality was he would miss a lot, for the dream you shared, and he needed to do as much as he could while home; this was only the beginning.

“I’m not getting one of those medieval torture devices until I absolutely have to.” You mumble, snatching the breast pump out of his hands and tossing it back on the shelf before proceeding to the next aisle, “We don’t need half of this s—”

You stop when seeing the blue seahorse, labeled 0-36 months, which claims it will ‘soothe and glow’ for your baby; you read somewhere online that it was a bad idea to invest in too many baby items before a certain month. But it feels like your baby is here, like you can hold it, especially with Jon’s excitement. It is blue like Jon’s eyes, and you cannot stop yourself from pulling it off the shelf, thoughtfully pouting at the item.

There is no way you need this. It won’t sell out. It’s not the last of its kind. It’s labeled as a regular item at the store. Jon’s hand wraps around yours and the toy’s packaging; you are so tempted to tell him it’s not necessary, that it’s another thing you don’t need. However, when you see his dimpled grin, you allow him to put the item in the overflowing cart.


	9. Chapter 9

Your doctor had promised you that, during your second semester, your symptoms would work themselves out. However, it feels like your baby has total control of you. While the morning sickness has lessened a little, your body is still tender in certain spots and you sleep a lot. Telling Jon this is a bad idea as he thinks you should see the doctor at the smallest sign of discomfort.

You promise yourself today will be different as Jon returns from a trip overseas and has a few days off to come home for a reset (a true rarity). Part of you is nervous about how he will react to the more pronounced curve of your stomach as your clothes are starting to feel a little snugger. It doesn’t really matter though because you are anticipating his arrival with unbridled excitement – especially since your hormones are anxious for his presence.

You find a nice sundress to mask some of your curve, giving your hair and light make up a once over, before you head to the airport. A part of you hopes he isn’t too tired to ignore your obvious flirtations; however, as you pull up to the arrivals gate, you see nothing but exhaustion. You have to play off your disappointment as you pull up to him; you park the car and reach for your belt buckle when the passenger door swings open, “Don’t get out, just pop the trunk.”

“Oh, okay.” You do as instructed, watching with a slight pout as he loads his bags into the trunk.

Jon slams the trunk, taking the passenger seat and leaning over to kiss your cheek, “People here are fucking crazy. I don’t need them hitting my pregnant wife.”

“Thanks, babe, always looking out for me.” You lean over, signaling for him to give you a proper kiss and feel the same flutter in your chest when he obliges – hands framing your face in a familiar adoration.

————–

Jon gets a shower in, one you are hoping will revive him; you need it to. Your body is craving his in a way which is so unfamiliar to you. While you had recently spent a lot of phone time talking about the baby’s daily treatment of your body, you had not had a chance to tell him how the changes were making you thirstier than you had ever been for your husband.  You wander into the bedroom as he steps out of the bathroom, prepared to ask him if he wants anything special so that you can make some suggestions.

Jon smiles upon seeing you, causing you to go dumb in speech, and his fingertips ghost yours, his lips catching a quick kiss of your neck, as he passes. Then, he falls face first onto the bed.

Rolling your eyes, realizing he probably thought you were heading to the bathroom, you turn around and grab a pair of his sweats, toss them onto the bed beside him. You know it’s a bad idea to disturb him like this; he just needs to rest.

Disappointed, you head back into the living room and curl up on the couch. It isn’t long before your body falls into a familiar lull, and you are out like your husband.

————–

“Yeah, I don’t wanna wake her up. Doesn’t seem like she’s been sleeping much better than me.”

Your awareness stirs before your eyelids are light enough to blink, yet you recognize his fingers tenderly combing your hair as he speaks to someone else.

“Yeah, I’ll leave a note and head out. I can’t stay there long, man, or (Y/N)’s gonna kill me.”

“…damn right I will.” You mumble, blinking your eyes open as a smile spreads on your lips.

“She’s up. I’ll call you back.” Jon hangs up the phone, sitting on the floor beside the couch and admiring your features, “I was trying not to wake you…oops.”

“Babe, you actually think…” Done being patient, you run your index finger down his exposed chest and down to the waist of his sweatpants, “I’m letting you go anywhere tonight?”

Jon’s interest is peaked as his fingers move from combing your hair and down to your jawline, “What about…”

“That’s what I’ve wanted to tell you since I went to pick you up at the airport.” You sit up on the couch with almost childlike excitement, “My body is feeling ten times better, with exception of some soreness, and I’m—I—” You have no idea why you’re embarrassed to say it, but you feel the blush heat your cheekbones. Now, as Jon is so close and clearly interested in your words, you debate if you’re ready to experiment with your body confidence. The last thing you want to do is get him thinking twice because your baby bump is obvious and clearly responsible for your surge in hormones, “Could we just say…I’ve been thinking about—us a lot lately, together?”

He laughs sharply, leaning a little against the couch and stretching his legs out; he’s clearly aware of your concentrated stare on his muscles as he teases, “You’re horny?”

You roll your eyes then bow your head, “Really? You gonna make me regret bringing this up?”

“No!” Jon pushes the coffee table aside with a gentle shove and sits on his knees in front of you; his hands make their first contact with you, sliding the material of your dress up to your mid-thigh as a smile dances on his lips. Easily parting your legs enough to settle between them, he continues to massage your skin, “Roman said something about this.”

“You talked to Roman about my body?” You feel somewhat ashamed that your body begins to burn because of his touch despite your mortification, “I don’t wanna feel like a school girl for wanting something from my husband.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel anything yet.”

Jon combs his fingers into your hair once more, grasping at the ends and bringing you in for a hungry kiss. It is enough to completely consume your embarrassment and get your body focusing on only one goal – release. Snaking your arms around him, your fingers nails crawl over his bareback and scrape playfully at the skin.

His hands cascade down your body for a rough grope of your breasts, and you moan in a way that signals far more pain than pleasure. Wide-eyed, Jon ceases all contact, “What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s just…” You cup yourself, hoping he doesn’t panic at your announcement, “They’re really sore.”

You wanna explain further, but Jon’s got a focus. Pushing the straps of your sundress off your shoulders and down just above your belly, he delicately undoes and removes your bra. However, rather than playful, he inspects your figure.

After a moment, when you see he’s trying to restrain a smile, you are halfway tempted to push him away, “There’s nothing wrong with them. Yes, they’re a little bigger. They’re really sensitive.” Brave and bold, you move your hands down to your belly, “This got bigger too.”

Jon moves the dress down, eyes jumping up to signal that you lift your hips; you oblige, and he gets rid of the dress. Now, the grin is undeniable as his large hands cover the space.

You want to ask him a million questions, most revolving around how he feels about your body’s changes. You speak none of them, wanting him to have the chance to reacquaint himself with the idea of your ever growing child. Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest as he bends down to place a kiss above your belly button, and his thumbs continue to stroke your sides when he manages to pull away.

No words leave his lips as he leans in and places kisses along your collarbone then trail up towards your lips, a kiss which clearly signals how thankful he is for you and the family that is being created. Jon cradles your face in his hands, pressing his forehead to yours, “I love you, (Y/N).”

Rubbing his biceps, you feel as though he controls every single thing in your world; but you aren’t scared, not anymore. You just feel safe and guarded, sighing with blissful content, “So, you’ll stay here with me?”

“There’s no way in hell anyone’s going to keep me from you tonight.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Series Finale! :)

The baby sends you to the restroom in the middle of the night, reminding you who is in charge; you wash up and pause at the door, leaning against the frame to stare at your snoring husband.

Face nearly buried in the pillow, an arm curled under it as the other stays stretched out in your empty space, Jon sleeps like he hasn’t in weeks. Your request had relaxed you mutually, but for Jon it was a sedative. Everything was right with his world.

You shake your head a little, rolling your hands over your belly with a sigh; padding over to the dresser, you dig in the drawer to find one of the velvety soft shirts you had received from Ivelisse in the mail – the first items you can say someone actually bought at a maternity store. You would die before you admitted that you lived in and rotated the shirts for days on end.

Pulling it over head, you tip toe out of the room and head down the hallway. The house remains undisturbed, patient with you as you enter what is to be the nursery. It’s nothing but piled boxes right now, pictures on cardboard of what will come to be in the still bare room. You toes curl on the plush carpet and encourage you to take a careful seat.

In another trimester, you will have a tiny little being that depends on you and Jon for everything. Glancing down, you find yourself subconsciously rubbing your stomach again; you worry about what happens after the baby gets here. You’ve never discussed it.

Will you ever go back to WWE? To Lucha? Are you ready to be a stay-at-home mom who knows nothing about raising a kid? It’s driving you nuts to be without Jon now! Should you stay in state or should you convince Jon that Los Angeles is best? At least there you have the Lucha family to help you navigate everything.

Thinking makes you feel dizzy, like the room is spinning out of control, and you ease yourself to the floor, rolling onto your back. As the light escapes through the curtains, you watch it dance along the ceiling and wonder if the baby can hear your thoughts. It sends you into a panic so quickly that you begin to direct your ideas to your child,  _No matter what, you will come first. Don’t you ever worry about that. Me and daddy will make sure you are surrounded with love, and nothing will ever come between the three of us._

“(Y/N)?” Jon’s voice brings you out of your head, smiling up at him to the point where he chuckles; he stares down at you, a pair of sweats riding low on his hips as he frowns, “Babe, what are you doing?”

“Hanging out with the baby.” You reach up to him with playful, grabby hands until he groans his way into lying beside you; when he’s flat on his back, you tilt your head to rest against his shoulder and take his nearest hand to put it on the tiny hill of your tummy, “Did I wake you?”

“I could just tell you weren’t there.” Kissing the top of your head, he exhales, “It woke me up.”

You love that he has such a connection to you, but you wonder if you should tell him everything keeping you up in the middle of the night.

Jon begins to run small circles on your belly, kissing the top of your head, “What were you talking to the baby about? Something else you don’t need to worry about right now, I’m sure.”

Taking a minute, you chew your lip and hug his bicep; you kiss at his shoulder then settle your head against it again, “…everything…where I’m going to work. If I’m going to work. If we should move closer to Ivelisse and Angelico since I know they’ll be my biggest help.” Panicking, you wonder if you told him, “They’re coming down when the due date gets closer. Said they would help me until the baby is here, and you can get a little time off.”

“You told me, but—everything else. Where’s it all coming from?” Jon lifts his hand from your belly and maneuvers it around your body, beginning to stroke your hair and back, “You just sitting here and driving yourself nuts?”

“No, I just…” You fidget with the waist of his sweats, sighing, “maybe…”

“Don’t you worry about anything, (Y/N).” Cupping your chin with his free hand, Jon lifts your view and locks your eyes, “We’ll figure it out. All of it.”

“There’s a little human on the way, Jon.”

He lets out the breath of a laugh, stroking your wild hair, “I’m aware.”

“It’s going to change everything.”

“Not everything.” Jon sees the question in your uncertain eyes, and he coaxes you up until the two of you are standing. His carved arms come in a strong hold around your upper frame as his chin settles on your shoulder, his bare chest against your back, “That box will change into a crib. And that will hopefully be a functioning rocking chair.”

You chuckle at the thought of him finally putting everything together, his quick temper trying to follow instructions that provoke his fury because he would rather eye ball it. Hugging his arms tighter around you, tilting your head to let him speak easier into your ear, you listen intently to your husband’s reassurance until the words seep into your skin an soothe your bones.

“There will be a baby who—hates being told what time to go to bed and eats way more than a kid should.” Jon releases a raspy laugh with you before kissing the side of your throat, “But it won’t change how I feel about you…how I’ve felt about you all this time.”

Your eyes mist at the reassurance, your breath trembles a little.

“You are my wife, and I would still kick any guy’s ass who so much as cracked a smile your way.” His assertion causes you to break out in a tearful giggle, thinking of the time he attacked a friend at a house party. Turning you towards him, his hands frame your face as Jon smirks like he knows he’s scored, said the perfect thing, “The important things are never gonna change, (Y/N). And the rest of it? …my job is to keep my family together so – I heard I just gotta keep you happy.”

“Oh yeah?” You lace your fingers with his and wrap his arms around you, “Who said that?”

“I don’t know, but…” Jon’s lips begin to hover around yours, sharing your smile as you guide him to a backwards walk out of the nursery, “I’ve heard it more than once so…”

“It’s gotta be true.” You agree, giving a small nod before your lips are catching and releasing his in feather light pecks, “Welp, I know what you could do to make me happy right now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.” You finally break your embrace but keep hold of one his hands to lead him into your bedroom, “Put me back to sleep, Moxley.”

His hand gives your behind a firm smack before shutting the door, “Let’s get to it, Mrs. Moxley.”


End file.
